


Second Place Qualifier

by ThePagemistress



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 10:04:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11621301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePagemistress/pseuds/ThePagemistress
Summary: Ronnie makes the mistake of pointing something out to Jacky and now he can't stop noticing it.





	Second Place Qualifier

Jacky hadn’t even noticed it until Ronnie unwittingly pointed it out to him.

“I suppose that would make sense,” he said. “He is not going to say it to your face, that would make no sense.”

“Just when he’s talking _about_ me,” Jacky clarified, contemplating the tip of his cigarette.

“Yes,” Ronnie said after a slight hesitation, getting the impression he was creating a Situation.

Jacky flicked ash on the floor. “But _only_ me.”

He was still staring at the smoke curling into the air but he could tell the moment Ronnie caught onto the issue. It made him bristle. “Well…” Ronnie started, choosing his words carefully. “I suppose so. But they are often together so there is no need to specify.”

“And when they’re not together?”

“Jacky, it doesn’t mean anything,” Ronnie said, trying to placate him. “I’m sure he doesn’t even know he does it!”

That didn’t make Jacky feel better. “What does he say?” When Ronnie wasn’t immediately forthcoming with examples, Jacky finally looked at him, cat-like grin on his face that bore little humour. “What am I to Francois Cevert?”

Ronnie sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to get out of this. “Mostly it is just ‘other’. ‘Other Jacky’ said this or ‘Other Jacky’ did that. Sometimes you are ‘Ferrari Jacky’, depending on who he is speaking to. Or ‘Belgian Jacky’.”

Jacky sucked on the cigarette, grin still in place, taking some grim pleasure in how uncomfortable he was making the Swede. Good. It was nice to spread some of the misery around.

“But at least he doesn’t call you ‘Ickx’!” Ronnie said, perking up a little bit. “That would be more impersonal, don’t you think?”

He was clutching at straws. “He knows that whoever he is speaking to will think he is talking about Stewart. Because when isn’t he? And so he will always have to qualify my name. Because I am less important.” Perhaps he had had a few too many glasses of brandy. Was he even drinking brandy? Whatever it was, it was loosening his tongue a bit too much for his liking. Although there were certainly worse people to open up to than heart-of-gold Ronnie.

“I don’t think-“ Whatever the rest of that sentence was, it was clearly a lie because he cut himself off from finishing it. Instead, he said, “Perhaps you should tell him? I am sure he would try and stop doing it if he knew it upset you.”

“It doesn’t upset me,” Jacky replied, indignant. He didn’t have to justify himself. He didn’t have to explain that at every remembered occurrence he felt a stab in the chest at the knowledge that he was second place. Always second to Jackie. The one and only Jackie. The Jackie who didn’t need any qualifiers before his name because he didn’t them. He was just…Jackie.

“Right well…” Ronnie said, downing what was left of his beer, eyes darting around for an escape. Jacky had lost interest in the conversation and decided to do him a favour by getting up and leaving the bar himself, without so much as a goodbye.

~*~

He found himself eavesdropping on Francois’ conversations more and more, the constant frowning at hearing those qualifiers in front of his name enough to give him a headache. Part of him was gratified at just how often Francois seemed to bring him up in conversation but that feeling was always chased away by the feeling of inadequacy. The feeling of those qualifiers knocking him down to second place.

And then he started to notice a change. Francois was having to clarify himself more and more. “No, Jacky Ickx”, he heard him say. Because he’s suddenly dropped the ‘other’. He’d started to just refer to him as ‘Jacky’. But naturally, people assumed he was talking about _other_ Jackie and so Francois was having to specify. It seemed tedious and much more of a time-waster than just referring to him in the various ways he had been previously. But Jacky didn’t care. He was finally just Jacky.

He knew that it had to have been Ronnie’s doing, especially with the way the Swede would do a drastic diversion whenever he saw Jacky heading his way. Part of him was troubled by how that conversation must have gone but it was largely outweighed by the curl of gratification in his chest at the way his name – _his_ name – fell out of Francois’ mouth.

“Are you gonna be coming out with us after the race this time?” he overhead Mario ask ahead of the last race of their 1972 season.

“Ah well, it will depend! I have made a promise with Jacky. If either of us get a podium, the other must buy all the drinks! So if he gets a podium, I think maybe not!” Francois replied. Jacky grinned from where he was sitting away from them. And not just because of all the free drinks he was planning on getting tomorrow night.

“I thought Jackie was flying out straight after the race to get back home?” Mario asked.

“No, no, not _my_ Jackie-“

Jacky didn’t hear the rest of the sentence, the emotional whiplash making his head swim. Suddenly, he didn’t mind his old qualifiers so much.

Somehow knowing you were second-best felt a lot better than knowing you’ll never be first.


End file.
